


Clar Barton, resident dumpster fire

by boomerangarrow



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Avengers Tower, Character Study, Deaf Clint Barton, Female Clint Barton, Gen, Goofy Bullshit, comic and movie blending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9386852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomerangarrow/pseuds/boomerangarrow
Summary: Clara Frances Barton--Avenger, shitpost made human, natural disaster, dumpster fire, whatever you wanna call her. This is a largely unrelated collection of her life and times, whenever I feel like writing it. (An AU of sorts, where Clara has always been a girl but everyone else is their respective sex/gender. Mix of comic and movie universes. Canon is fluid.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO this entire fic series is going to be like 90% the stupidest shit you will ever fucking see. Just sayin'. I am writing these for my own amusement, and playing with character study.
> 
> If there are mistakes, it's because I'm writing these myself with no one proofing it, and I missed something. Let me know if there's any weird bits, I guess?
> 
> And if I mess up anything relating to the Deaf community, because I am doing research and trying to learn ASL, but as I am not a member of said community nor do I know anyone who is, it is entirely possible for me to make mistakes.
> 
> But yes please enjoy these goofy bits whenever I get around to writing them up.

It was four in the morning, and Stark Tower was quiet. 

Or, well, it was so far as Clar could tell. Hell if she knew, she’d taken her hearing aids out two hours ago to try and sleep. It hadn’t worked thus far, but she’d tried.

After another scornful glance to her clock, Clar pushed herself out of bed with a groan she couldn’t hear (but felt, deep in her soul). Figuring everyone else was asleep, she wandered out in what she’d flopped into bed in—some sports bra, and the Captain America boxer briefs she’d bought because it’d made Nat laugh. She hadn’t expected to like them, but they were some of the comfiest things she’d ever worn, so she rolled with it.

As quietly as she could manage, she padded along bare-footed, making her way towards the kitchen. If she couldn’t sleep, she could at least snack. There was a brand new box of Cap’n Crunch she’d bought a few days ago, and dammit, she wanted that sugary gravel.

The fact that the light was on in the kitchen didn’t really register until she stepped into the light and realized—there were other people awake. At this hour. _Shit._

Steve was sitting there, staring at her as if he’d trailed off in the middle of a sentence. Bucky was next to him, a bemused look on his face, and then—of _course_ Tony fucking Stark turned around to look. Awesome.

She scratched her head awkwardly as she watched Tony and Steve start to talk, too fast and obscured to really catch any words. Her face was starting to heat up, now, and she knew her cheeks were going pink as she looked to Bucky briefly. No help there, which didn’t surprise her, but she tried.

Awkwardly, she started to sign ‘deaf’ with her left hand, swiping the D sign along her jaw a few times before she realized they didn’t get it. Now they looked confused. _Excellent. Switch strategies._ She pointed at her ear, frowning and shaking her head. Then she made an X with her hands. It took a second, but then she saw understanding dawn on Steve’s face. He quickly scrawled on a notebook—

‘Deaf?' 

She sighed, nodding in reply. Then she mimed ‘hungry’ with a hand over her stomach and the other pointing at the fridge. Steve nodded, thankfully, and she made her way over to that side of the kitchen.

Once she’d prepared a mixing bowl’s worth of cereal, she hopped up on the counter and started eating, deliberately ignoring the men at the table. After a moment of staring at her, and Tony laughing about something she hadn’t caught, they went back to their conversation. She occasionally glanced to them, but she couldn’t read their lips from the angle.

For the most part, she ignored them and they ignored her, and she ate her cereal in peace. Once, they’d looked over, and she’d just scowled and signed ‘stupid’ at them. But of course she’d done it a little too violently, knocking her forehead with the back of the hand making a V hard enough to make her blink. Then she went back to eating.

Once she was done, she washed her bowl, humming vaguely before she grabbed the carton of orange juice from the fridge. She turned to salute the men at the table, but frowned when she saw Tony holding up a note— 

‘Cute underwear.’

Unwilling to defend herself over something so stupid, she just rolled her eyes and walked off, drinking straight from the carton as she went back to her room. 

 

\---

 

It took her ages to wake up, and she was okay with that. It gave her time for a ritual. When she rolled out of bed at half past eleven, she groggily yanked on a t-shirt, then put her hearing aids in. By the time she managed to wrestle on some socks, she was awake enough to go make food. Hopefully, nobody would bother her about the night before.

But then there was Tony, sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. “Good morning, sunshine,” he said, voice clearly full of glee. (Must’ve been about to tease her, she figured.) “I like the shirt addition.”

Clar frowned, looking down at her shirt—oh. Of course she’d grabbed one of the Iron Man ones. She really needed better taste. “Thanks,” she mumbled, rubbing her face. “It’s comfy. I’m sure you own a few.” It took her a second to reach the coffee, but once she did, she took the whole carafe. “You still tryin’ to stare at my ass?”

“I did no such thing,” Tony defended. “I just liked the shields all over it, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for noticing. I didn’t exactly expect to interrupt a pow-wow last night.” She sipped straight from the carafe, ignoring the mild disdain on Tony’s face. “Hope it wasn’t too important.”

“Wait, you really couldn’t hear us?”

“No shit, stupid.” Okay, so she wasn’t a morning person. “What, d’you think I was faking it or something?”

“No, I just didn’t know—”

“Dude, we’ve been on a team for, like, forever. I live in your weird dorm skyscraper. Did it seriously take you this long to notice the hearing aids?” She pointed to them, and to be fair, they did blend in with her hair and skin a bit. “Like, fuck me, dude. They’re right there. Nat and I sign at each other when we’re in the field all the time.”

“I just thought it was your weird partner thing. And I mean, no, I hadn’t noticed them.”

“Well, they’re there. And I mean, yeah, I have no idea what you guys were saying. You weren’t facing me, and you don’t exaggerate your mouth movements, so I couldn’t read your lips. I hadn’t expected anyone to be up then. Sorry to make it weird.” She leaned against the counter, still drinking the coffee. “But yeah, I’m, like, capital-D Deaf. Was for a while when I was a kid, then it got better, and then it got worse again. I’m like… Profoundly deaf.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, taking another sip. “It’s whatever. Don’t make it weird.”

“Weird like wearing underwear with Cap’s shield?”

“Dude, why are you fixating on that? It’s underwear.”

“Well, it’s right in my face, so.”

“Fucking weirdo.” She rolled her eyes, opening the fridge to find some eggs. “Don’t read into it. These things are comfy."

Tony just laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, hey, don’t pour coffee, Clar’s drinking from it,” he said suddenly. There was an aggravated sigh and the clink of glass on the counter as Clar looked over to see Steve with an empty mug.

“Hey,” she offered, smiling as she pulled out supplies for an omelet. “I mean, you can pour some, I don’t really care.” She set her things on the counter, humming as she started to mix her eggs up in a bowl. “Sorry about interrupting last night, by the way. Totally didn’t mean to. Didn’t realize people were up.”

Steve just sighed, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “Were you planning on telling your team about the whole being deaf thing at some point?”

“Nah,” she replied with a shrug. “Didn’t seem relevant.”

“I think something like that is relevant when it could mean compromising the safety of the team, Clar.”

“I mean, has it compromised our safety yet? More than, like, raging green dude? Or Tony ‘terrorists can’t use MapQuest’ Stark?”

Tony blinked. “Does MapQuest still exist?”

“Hell if I know, but the point stands.” With a shrug, she poured the eggs into the pan. “I mean, scale of one to ten, I feel like this issue is _maybe_ a three. I can handle it. The worst thing is awkward situations like last night, and even then, it’s more awkward that you guys didn’t know than anything.”

“So us not knowing you’re deaf is more awkward than you walking out and sitting on the counter in your underwear?” Tony snorted, amused. “You might be a little off.”

“You mistake me for someone with shame,” she replied. “I mean, egg on your face for not noticing the hearing aids I have literally been wearing since you met me. But whatever. Imma paint ‘em purple, then you’ll notice the damn things.”

Tony tilted his head, looking at the devices for a second. “I could make you some that aren’t visible, actually, like completely in-ear—“

“No. I don’t want that. I like them as is.” She looked over, frowning. “Nothing wrong with me, or my hearing aids. I don’t need to hide.”

Steve shrugged, leaning against the counter. “I mean, that’s your choice. I don’t disagree. But maybe a heads-up if there are any major things like that, in the future.”

“I mean, what else do you want from me? I could share my period tracking app with everyone, is that what you’re asking?” Her mouth curled into a little smirk, and she shot Steve a sly glance. “I could do that, it has a setting so I can share with people.”

Steve spluttered on his coffee, and Tony cackled again. “Maybe I was right,” he teased, grinning at Steve. “Maybe she does have a type.”

She just rolled her eyes, ignoring them both as they bickered for a moment. Better to leave them to it than get involved in Tony’s snarky form of machismo, or Steve’s deflection. Didn’t want her omelet (shit, make that scrambled eggs, she _always_ fucked that up) to burn.


	2. Chapter 2

Clar was stretching even as she yawned, trying to get warmed up for some gym time despite only having just woken up. She wasn’t too aware of the time—she’d just returned from a mission for SHIELD, and while she enjoyed that work, it was exhausting. The first thing she’d done after taking out her hearing aids was faceplant into her bed, passing out almost instantly.

Her head bobbed as she hummed to herself, making her way down to the main training facility. She knew it was daytime, based on the light streaming in the windows, but she couldn’t tell past that. Apparently, though, it was early enough that she was witnessing something interesting. “Is there a yoga class I didn’t know about?”

Natasha glanced over, smiling a little. Of course she was leading it; nobody else would’ve been able to get the rest of the team to cooperate with minimal griping. “I was doing yoga with Steve, and then Tony showed up, so it became a thing. You looking to join?”

“Yeah, for sure. I haven’t done yoga in years.” With a grin, Clar grabbed a mat and unrolled it next to Tony. “What’re we doing today?”

“A lot,” Steve said. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Clar laughed, following Natasha’s lead. “I’ll be fine, but I appreciate the concern.”

Fifteen minutes in, Clar was finally remembering some of her favorite poses. She’d tuned Natasha out, as well as Tony’s grumbles when he lost his balance or couldn’t transition as gracefully as the others, and had decided to try one of the ones she’d loved when she was a teenager. After a careful moment, she pushed herself into a handstand, then dropped her feet until they were almost touching her head.

“What’s that one?” Steve sounded curious, mostly, and Natasha laughed in reply.

“Handstand Scorpion,” the redhead answered. “Not exactly easy.”

“I thought you said you hadn’t done yoga in years?” Tony’s voice was a little accusatory, and Clar opened her eyes to see the older man’s shins.

“I mean, I haven’t. But it’s like riding a bike or whatever. Doesn’t really go away.” Clar shifted, feet dropping to the floor lightly as she moved into a backbend. “I wouldn’t try it, though, you’d probably drop yourself, and then I’d have to laugh at you.” She kicked her legs up and over after a moment, suddenly popping back up to standing. “And that’d just be mean, right?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, amused but not interested in Clar’s distractions. “We’re almost done. Ignore her, she’s just a showoff.”

There were another few minutes of the blonde following Natasha’s lead, but it wasn’t long before she got bored again. Without too much thought, she twisted and curled on herself until her foot was on her arm and the other leg was sticking straight out. She smiled to herself, glad she’d managed to do it, and took a moment to switch sides. Once she was done, she moved to lie on her back, staring up at the inquisitive faces of Tony and Steve.

Tony was the one to finally speak, clearly amused. “So where did you learn all this stuff? Pretty sure I read that you grew up in Iowa—not exactly somewhere I associate with yoga.”

“Wait, you read my file?” Clar frowned, sitting up abruptly. “Not cool.”

“Skimmed it,” Tony said dismissively. “But I mean, I’m still wondering.”

“I learned it when I was a teenager, before I got picked up by SHIELD.” She stood up, suddenly a little less relaxed. “Barney an’ I did it together, back when we were closer.”

“Who’s Barney?” Steve asked, stepping back as Clar moved past him. He frowned a little when she didn’t answer, but before he could follow the blonde, Natasha stopped him.

“Her brother,” Natasha murmured. “She doesn’t like to talk about that very much.”

“Makes sense,” Steve agreed. “I won’t push her.”

Natasha glanced to Tony, eyebrow raised. “Don’t bother her about it, Tony. She’s not a puzzle, she doesn’t need solved.”

“I wasn’t gonna  _ solve _ her,” Tony protested, hands lifting. “But fine, I’ll drop it. For now.”

“Good answer.”

\--

It had been a day way too full of paperwork, and Clar was definitely not feeling up to anyone’s shenanigans as she flopped down onto the couch Natasha had been curled up in the corner of. She grumbled softly, shifting until her head was in the redhead’s lap, then huffed out a little sigh.

“Long day?” Nat barely glanced down from her book, idly carding a hand through Clar’s short hair.

Clar let out a long and tired groan, eyes squeezing shut for a second. “Field reports,” she mumbled, clearly unhappy. “I was so behind.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Shut up.” She turned, looking at whatever movie was playing on the television. It looked like… “Are we watching Moulin Rouge?”

Bruce glanced up from his tablet, nodding a little. “You put it on Steve’s list of things to watch a few weeks ago.”

“I did?” She frowned a little. “When was that?”

“After that covert op, when you came back in a torn-up dress and drunk,” Tony offered. “Very well done. You bet us you could spear an olive from twenty feet away with a toothpick. And I mean, you did. And then you put it in a martini.”

Clar snorted a little. “That does sound like me,” she admitted. “And I do like this movie. The costumes are gorgeous, they remind me of bein’ fifteen.”

Steve looked over at her, eyebrows lifted. “Why’s that?”

“Sequins and glitter,” she offered vaguely. “Always liked that shit when I was a kid.”

That got a laugh from Tony, and he looked over. “What, were you a stripper?”

“Nah,” Clar answered. “I mean, I was, but not when I was fifteen. I was like… Twenty-three. One of my first ops with SHIELD. But nah, this reminds me of other stuff. Way classier than the stuff I wore for that op.”

“Then what were you at fifteen? Pageant girl?” Tony was pressing her for an answer, but that one just made Clar laugh again.

“Hell no. Parents wouldn’t have been about that shit if they had seen me make it to bein’ a teenager.” She stretched a little, relaxing under Natasha’s idle attention. “But no, they were way dead by then, and by the time I was fifteen, I’d been out of Iowa for a year.”

“Oh? How’d you manage that?”

“Hitched a ride,” she replied. “You’re not getting it out of me that easy, Tony.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Total miss, glowstick. Try again.” She closed her eyes, humming along with the music softly. “Tasha, you care if I nap on you?”

Natasha just turned a page in her book, shrugging. “As long as you don’t drool on me again, I don’t care.”

“Can do.” With that, Clar settled a little more, and was asleep before the end of the song.

\--

It was a bad sign when Clar stepped out of the elevator and saw Tony at the kitchen table. It was the middle of the night, after a long day of training over at SHIELD—it had to be one in the morning. Clar was just hoping to get to her comfy bed and pass out, but instead, she was staring at Tony Stark’s smirking face. No wonder so many people wanted to punch him.

“How long you been waiting there?” She walked past him, going into the fridge to find a snack. After a long moment of staring at her options, she decided to just get some string cheese and an apple. “More than half an hour?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You do realize that JARVIS alerts me when people come and go, right?”

“Aw, bro, that’s so creepy.” With a sigh, she sat down at the table. “So what’s got you looking so smug tonight?”

“It isn’t,” he mumbled. “And I found something while I was poking around storage.” With a little grin, he tossed a few Polaroids on the table.

“God, could you be less creepy for three seconds?” She leaned forward, though, peering at the photos. That purple outfit—oh, god. She knew that outfit. “Why were you in my stored junk?”

“I was looking for old blueprints and came across a shoebox. Before you get all grouchy with me, I didn’t know it was yours until after I’d opened it.” He was grinning, though, ignoring the scowl on Clar’s face. “What’s up with the get-up?”

The glare didn’t leave as Clar leaned back in her chair, looking at Tony again. “I was a circus performer,” she said. “C’mon, Tony, do you see me prying into your past? Can’t you let shit lie?”

“But this is  _ gold. _ ”

“Yeah, but I don’t like talking about it. Not cool, dude.” She took a bite of her apple, sighing. “Like, seriously, Tony. It’s not a shame thing, in case you’re wondering. It’s just—I mean, do you like it when people bring up your dad, or the fact that you’ve banged, like, half of the journalists in America?”

“Wow, low blow, Clar.”

“And so’s this.” She crossed her arms, tipping back on her chair. “You gonna ask me questions or what?”

Tony hummed, looking at the pictures for a second. “So, like, how old were you in these?”

She let the chair drop, pointing to the picture closest to her. “I was fifteen in this one. The one with the horse, I was sixteen. I really hit puberty between ‘em, as you can see by the fact that it doesn’t look so loose. The last one, with the blindfold, I was nineteen.”

“How did you even keep that on? It’s, like, three pieces of fabric.”

“Lots of tape.  _ So _ much tape. It was uncomfortable as hell.”

“And all those  _ sequins. _ ”

“They chafed.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “That blows.”

“Yeah, it did.” She stood, going to grab herself a beer. “You want one?”

“Sure.” He took the offered beer, leaning forward a little. “So how’d you end up working in a circus at fifteen? Seems a little young.”

“Turns out you got a lot of freedom when your parents are dead and you run away from the system,” she said after a sip. “And I mean, I was gonna follow Barney wherever. He was my big brother, he’s the one that taught me to fight back. We were tight, ‘til we weren’t.”

He frowned a little into his beer. “I guess I wouldn’t know. Not having a brother and all.”

“Yeah, you weren’t missing out.” Her face drew into a brief frown, and she ran a hand through her short hair. “Brothers are dicks. We don’t talk anymore. Had a hell of a falling out when I was twenty-one—ended poorly. Lots of blood. I was on my own for about two years, then I ended up falling into SHIELD right after rock bottom. So I mean, hey, that part worked out. Kinda.”

“Jesus Christ, Clar. How’d you end up on SHIELD’s radar?”

“I killed seventeen people.” She took a long sip, looking Tony dead in the eye as he choked on his beer. After letting him be aghast for a moment, she grinned and laughed. “Dude, no, I’m fucking with you. I pulled a bunch of robberies, left some people with arrows in bad places. Nobody died, but they’re not gonna be too hot ever again, either. I got my hands on some oh-eight-four and that attracted SHIELD. They gave me the recruit-or-jail speech, I chose the former, and here I am.”

“Wait, so Clar Barton was a bad guy?” Tony took another swig, trying not to inhale it that time.

“I mean, you could call it that. I like to say it was some extenuating circumstances.” Her shoulders bobbed in a shrug, and she looked down at the photos again. “Man, that horse is  _ so _ dead by now. He was thirteen in that picture from when I was fifteen, and they only live to be, like, thirty.”

“That’s kinda morbid, Clar.”

“Yeah, well, that’s kinda the theme of my life. But I’m still kickin’, so I’ll call it a win.” A creak made her head whip around, and she looked at Bucky with wide eyes. “Hey,” she said softly. “We wake ya?”

Bucky shook his head, glancing to the beers in hand and photos on the table. “What’s with the pictures?”

Clar groaned as Tony cackled, opting to grab another beer. “Bullshit, that’s what.”

“Clar was a carnie!” Tony was grinning again, finishing up his own bottle. “Grab me another?”

“ _ So _ uncool, Tony. And not with that attitude.” She opened two beers, offering the spare to Bucky instead. “If you can get Stark to go to bed and not turn on his creepy recording system, I’ll tell you all about it.”

Bucky laughed, taking the beer with his flesh hand. “Sounds fair.” He picked Tony up with the metal arm, ushering him away despite the shorter man’s protests.

\--

When Bucky returned some five minutes later, he was alone and grinning. “Got him to promise and everything. So… Storytime?”

Clar laughed, bright and a little too loud. “Yeah, storytime. So.” As Bucky sat, she straightened out the photos. “When I was a kid, my parents sucked. Well, my dad did, anyway. And then they wrapped the car around a tree when I was, like, ten. So my brother Barney and I ended up in the foster system.” She leaned forward, humming. “When I was almost fourteen, and Barney was seventeen, he decided he was done with that shit. And, bein’ a faithful little sister, I followed him. We ended up at Carson’s Carnival.”

With a little hum, Bucky nodded. “Makes sense, kinda. I remember saying we’d run away and join the circus when Steve and I were kids.”

“Yeah, except we actually did it. We tried to be sneaky, but the carnies caught us and had us work for a living. We started learning some stuff between all the manual labor, and I ended up getting really good at archery, among other things.” She pointed to the first picture, the one of her when she was fifteen. “I ended up being part of a show with the Swordsman and Trickshot, my mentor types. And it was a circus, and they were tryin’ to make me look like I was old enough to actually be working, so this is what my outfit looked like. Plus, y’know, good for movement.”

Bucky snickered a little, picking up the picture. “It looks awful. I didn’t know spandex could be baggy.”

“Yeah, it didn’t work out quite as well as they were hoping. Then I hit puberty harder, and it helped a little.” She pointed to the middle picture, with her dangling from a trapeze by the elbow. “Made lots of money, though. And I swear to god, my skin is sturdier to this day because of all the tape involved with that stupid costume.”

That got another laugh, and Bucky leaned forward to peer at the picture in question. “So what’s with the horse?”

“Hey, don’t disrespect Giorgio, rest his stubborn-ass soul.” She cracked a smile, looking at the picture. “That was when I was sixteen. Right around when Trickshot and the Swordsman had me get up to some just absolutely  _ massive _ amounts of thievery. Like… God, I have no idea how much we stole, but it was a lot. I don’t even know how many warrants I had out for my arrest. Like, no clue.” She looked at the picture for a long moment. “Man, I hated that hair so much. Got in the way like you wouldn’t believe.”

“It was cute,” Bucky defended. “They were probably going for that Indian princess kinda thing.”

“Yeah, because nothing says ‘Native American’ like a blonde-haired white girl from Iowa,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “But I mean, it sold, so whatever.”

He laughed a little, pointing to the last picture—her in a blindfold, prepping a shot. “So when was this?”

“I was nineteen in that one,” she said softly. “Had to keep upping the stakes, y’know? Or else I wouldn’t have been good enough to keep working. That’s what they always told me. Pitted me against Barney, too. We started fighting around then, and it never got better. I started skimming cash, and took off when I was twenty-one. Cut off all my hair, changed up as much about my appearance as I could… I was a redhead for a while, can you believe it?”

“That must’ve looked awful on you, you’re not meant to be a redhead.”

“No I am not, and yes it looked awful.” She laughed a little, shrugging. “But hey, I made it through. I pulled off a few robberies of my own, ended up hurting a lot of people and finding an oh-eight-four. That got SHIELD to track me down and take me in, and then I started working with them when I was twenty-three. Turned my life around, got some shit together, saved Nat, and here I am.”

That got another hum and nod from Bucky as he finished his beer. He stood up, grabbing another for himself and for Clar. “So when’d the hearing loss happen? I didn’t see any hearing aids in the pictures—did it happen after you joined SHIELD?”

She ducked her head on reflex, taking the new beer. “Uh, no. That happened when I was a kid. I just didn’t wear the hearing aids during shows. Sound was really distracting when I was first starting, and then I just didn’t like the look.” She shrugged a little. “Plus, my hearing loss wasn’t as bad back then. It’s gotten worse over the years. Too many explosions, I guess.”

“That sucks.” There was a long pause as both of them drank for a moment, letting the silence linger. “If it makes you feel better, my arm hasn’t always been this sophisticated. I used to have this, like… Claw thing. At first. Until they made me one that looked like a normal arm.”

Clar snorted, shaking her head. “Bullshit.”

“Dead serious.”

“So you were Dr. Claw?” She laughed softly, looking up at him. “That’s amazing.”

“I don’t know who that is, Clar, c’mon.”

“I know, but it’s just for me to laugh at.” She shook her head, shrugging. “But that does kinda help. Guess we’re both functioning with disabilities, huh?”

“Guess so.” He leaned forward, clinking his bottle against hers. “ _Slainte_.”

“ _Slainte_ ,” she agreed, her smile finally genuine.


End file.
